Centurion
by Mirrankei
Summary: Based off Pandorica Opens/Big Bang. Rory has a very long wait before the Pandorica will open again, and the cracks through time and space are spreading through all of time. Certain chapters TW and SJA specific.
1. Prologue

_102 - An Auton_

The Doctor disappears with a small flash and a puff of smoke, leaving Rory alone in the underhenge. For a brief moment, he's determined, fierce, ready to be the mighty warrior he's been forced to become; until he realizes there's nobody here to fight. There are just the frozen figures of the Doctor's enemies, no longer a threat. He sits next to the Pandorica, sword loosely in hand.

The other autons have all shut down, and it's days before the rest of the legion bother to come looking. They find the path beneath Stonehenge with ease. The legatus is surprised to find a survivor but more surprised to see the Pandorica. Convinced that it is full of treasure, he proposes to take it back to Rome.

He is outraged when the centurion refuses, drawing his sword against his superior.

The legion leaves empty-handed, finally convinced when they see the gift the gods have left the centurion. Rory isn't sure he wants to call the Daleks _gods_, but for now the gun-hand that got him into this mess is actually being helpful.

It will be 16 years before the Pandorica makes its journey to Rome, and Rory will ride alongside it the whole way. Even the Caesars will be afraid to open the box, protected as it is.

The sky above Stonehenge is blank, and Rory will stare up at it sometimes, wondering where the stars have gone. It will be 48 years before he sees one of the cracks again in person, haunted by vague memories of dying and waking millennia in the past. It isn't long before he is certain of his theory. He will watch as people, things, places, events disappear from time. He will see people struggle to remember things that never happened, people they never met. Nobody's life will make any sense.

In 1,894 years, the Pandorica will open, the cracks will close, the universe will repair itself. But time itself has been ripped open, and the cracks appear in both directions, reaching long before the Pandorica's creation and far beyond its future destruction.

For now, Rory settles back against the wall and stares up at the box.

He knows he's given up his only out. The Doctor won't be coming back to give him a second chance at taking the short path. All he can do is stay with the Pandorica and protect it as best he can.

He has a very long wait ahead of him.


	2. 1941: Hope

_1941 - The Lone Centurion_

It was a quiet night, for now. It was dark of course; even without an official blackout, London kept its lights off except when absolutely needed. The dim lamp over the warehouse door was the only real source of light. The few clouds were only barely illuminated by the moon.

There was a small flare of orange light from the street. A soldier was lighting a cigarette.

Instinct made his hand reach for his sword. The soldier didn't seem to care. He swaggered over to the steps and sat down beside him.

"Nice night," he said. An American, judging by the voice.

"...Yeah," came the reply.

The soldier took another drag from his cigarette. "Won't stay quiet for long though."

"Probably not."

The soldier flashed him a cavalier grin. "Bet you the rest of my cigarettes there's another attack within the next forty minutes."

"No thanks," he said dully. "Those things'll kill you."

"They really, really won't," said the American. He sighed and stared up at the sky. After a pause he turned with a puzzled look on his face. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Tar builds up in the lungs. Can cause lung cancer or infection. Tends to shorten the expected lifespan. Suppose there are worse things to worry about right now though."

"No kidding," said the soldier, glancing back up at the sky. Still no sign of any zeppelins though, and the sirens were silent. "How'd you know that stuff anyway?"

"Common knowledge," he muttered, not really interested in chitchat. "And I used to be a nurse."

The soldier's eyebrows shot up. "That's really not what I was expecting to hear from a thousand year old Roman."

"Life's full of surprises," the Centurion said dully. He'd had this conversation and a million just like it time and time again.

"Speaking of which, you're looking pretty good for a thousand."

"Thanks," he said.

"I gotta say, I was pretty surprised to find the rumors were true." The soldier was still smiling strangely at him.

"Who says they are," the Centurion replied flatly.

"Well the clothes are a dead giveaway," the soldier said with a laugh. "Gold armor, red capes - it's all pretty damn old fashioned."

"Mm."

"Y'know, if you want to avoid drawing attention, you'd probably be better off with something a bit more contemporary."

"Maybe."

"But that's not really what made me believe in the legend," the soldier continued. "It's more something in your face."

"My face."

"Your eyes especially," he said. "They look a lot older than the rest of you."

It was a cliché, to be sure, but it did manage to turn the Centurion's head.

"And the way you've been acting," the soldier continued, "You've heard all that stuff before, seen everything. So I guess I believe the legends. You really have been guarding this box for hundreds of years, haven't you?"

The Centurion swallowed, taken aback by the soldier's intense gaze. "Yeah," he said.

The soldier turned to look over his shoulder at the warehouse door. "What's in this thing anyway?" he asked, as if he could see the Pandorica through the walls of the building.

The Centurion hesitated, his hand back on the hilt of his sword. Normally, he'd refuse to answer, drive away the intruder, make certain nobody could open the box before its time. But it was just like the soldier had been saying; there was something in those eyes that seemed out of time, an understanding the Centurion couldn't quite comprehend.

"Have you ever heard of Pandora's box?" asked the Centurion.

The soldier turned back to him and shrugged. "Sure. Girl opens a box when she's told not to, releases all the evils into the world." He raised an eyebrow. "You saying all the evils in the world are in there?"

The Centurion snorted. "What do you call this?" he said, gesturing to the street. This area hadn't been bombed directly, but it was still full of broken windows, abandoned homes, debris and litter. "The evil was all let out a long time ago."

"So what's in it then?"

The Centurion stared up into the dark sky with a tiny smile. "When I was a kid, my closest friend was an expert on the story. She said that the very last thing out of Pandora's box was hope."

The soldier followed his gaze. "Hope, huh? We could really use some of that about now."

The Centurion smirked and closed his eyes. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll win."

"'We' being..."

"The Allies, obviously."

"Well you _are_ a Roman, you know. And Rome is in Italy..."

"It's not really the same. Any loyalty I might have had to Rome is a millennium gone."

"Fair enough." The soldier laughed again.

The Centurion smiled back, in spite of himself.

"So, do you have a name?" the soldier asked.

The Centurion hesitated at first. It had been a while since anyone'd asked. His title was usually enough.

"Rory," he said.

"Nice to meet you, Rory," the soldier said. He held out his hand for the Centurion to shake. When the gesture was accepted, he smiled and leaned in close to Rory's face. "Listen, you wanna go for a drink or something? Or, I could bring drinks here," he added quickly, noticing how the Centurion's body tensed. "Wouldn't want to leave your box unprotected. I promise, I'm not trying to steal it."

"Then why are you doing this?" Rory asked, his hand clamping down on the soldier's.

"Because you look lonely," the soldier said, still smiling. He didn't let go. He held the Centurion's hand gently, leaning in to stare into his eyes, smiling just slightly. "Because you could use a friend. And because you're gorgeous."

Rory flinched and pulled his hand away. He was sure he was blushing, plastic or not. He ran a hand through his hair. "Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what it sounds like," the soldier said, still sitting much too close. "You're gorgeous. I'm asking you for a drink."

"That's ridiculous," said Rory. "And I'm not 'gorgeous.'"

"Sure you are."

"I'm not. The Doctor always used to make fun of my nose."

The soldier snorted, leaning back on his hands, amused. "What does he know? He always used to get mad at us for making fun of his ears."

"I – what?"

"What?"

Rory stared at the soldier. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," said the soldier, but he looked awkwardly to the side. "Forget it."

"No," said Rory. "You said something about the Doctor. How do you know the Doctor?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the soldier said. He got to his feet, obviously agitated. "I just said whatever popped into my head. It didn't mean anything."

"Yeah it did," Rory said. "You've traveled with him, haven't you?"

"I didn't - "

"In a blue box. Through time and space. There were stars and planets and he took you there and it was always dangerous but you kept going anyway."

The soldier stared down at him, breathing heavily.

"Before he left, he said that time was being erased. That things were being pulled out of the universe through cracks. I know, it happened to me, only I came back as a Roman." Rory knew he was babbling, but in _centuries_, this was the first time he'd spoken to someone who might understand. Some people believed in stars, but they didn't _know_. And Rory knew the Doctor had traveled with other people, the records were all back on the TARDIS, he just never thought he might find one of them. "Isn't there something about your life that doesn't make sense? Something missing?"

"Nothing about my life makes sense," the soldier said. "I've already done this war once."

"What?" said Rory.

"I did it before. I remember it. I know the Blitz ends and we win the war. America bombs Hiroshima. Japan surrenders." He shook his head. "I have no idea how I know. But I've been here before. I'm not even from America, I have no idea where I came from, but I stole this identity from a dead man, and I've been waiting since 1898 for somebody and I can't die."

Rory stared at him. That was all a bit more than he'd expected. "What?"

"I can't die. Or, I can, but then I come back. Over and over." He ran a hand through the back of his hair. "I came here because I knew it gets bombed tomorrow, and I thought I might get myself officially killed and head back to Cardiff."

"Oh," said Rory.

"I remember stars," he continued. "And traveling through space and planets and people I've never met."

"Yeah," Rory said. "So do I."

"You know what caused it?"

"Sort of." Rory rubbed his forehead. "I mean, the Doctor explained before he left, but not very well. The rest I've had to piece together myself."

The soldier hesitated a moment, then sat back down on the stair. "Tell me about it," he said. "Please."

"Yeah," said Rory. He swallowed again and closed his eyes, looking for a place to start. "What's your name, by the way?"

"...Jack," said the soldier. "Though, like I said, I stole it."

Rory shrugged. He tugged his cape off his shoulders, suddenly finding it stifling. With a deep breath and another look at the empty sky, he started his story.


	3. 2008: Loss

_2008 - Gwen Cooper_

Gwen found Jack on the roof, staring up at the sky. She followed his gaze, but other than some low hanging, gray clouds and the moon, it was empty. She wrapped her arms around herself, clutching her jacket in an attempt to block out the wind.

"Hey," she called.

Jack glanced back at her with a slight smile. "Hey."

"Can I ask you a stupid question?"

He shrugged and looked back at the horizon. "You might get a stupid answer, but sure. Shoot."

Gwen stopped just behind him.

"What exactly is it that we do here?"

Jack scoffed and grinned without looking at her. "You've been here over a year, you don't know what we do?"

"No, Jack, I don't. We just sit around with all this fancy equipment, day after day, watching… nothing. Waiting for nothing."

Jack didn't answer.

"But we're always here, and we get paid this enormous amount of money, and I don't even know why."

He stayed silent, gazing up at the dark sky. Gwen shivered and rubbed her arms again.

"Do you believe in stars?"

Gwen frowned. "They say the star cult is just a fad, based on fairy tales and people getting wasted and hallucinating. That it's all a bunch of rubbish, something that'll fade back into obscurity once the hype wears down."

"'They' are idiots," Jack laughed.

Gwen swallowed a half-formed retort that didn't quite make sense.

He continued, "Can something really be called a fad when it's been in existence since before written history? There are records of stars all over the world, in the pyramids of Egypt, ancient Rome, folk tales from here to Timbuktu. Why is there a word for the exact same imaginary object in every language on the planet? If there are no stars, why do we put them on our Christmas trees? Do 'they' have an answer for that? And anyway," he paused, finally turning towards her, "I didn't ask what 'they' think, Gwen Cooper, I asked you if you believe in stars."

Gwen swallowed. "I don't know."

He smiled at her. "Good answer."

"So? What have stars got to do with Torchwood?"

Jack sighed. "What do you think we do?"

Gwen shrugged. "We... We watch the Rift."

"And the Rift is?"

"A hole in time and space."

"And we watch it because?"

"Because sometimes things come through it."

"Where from?"

"From..."

"From the future, sometimes," Jack answered for her, "occasionally the past. But we spend an awful lot of time running after rift spikes only to find nothing there, don't we?"

Gwen nodded. "That's what I mean, there's just so much we do that doesn't make sense... I mean there was Lisa, and when you and Tosh went back in time, but other than that..."

"There were the cannibals too."

Gwen shivered again, not entirely from the cold. "Right."

"Anyway, those rift spikes, the ones that don't seem to lead anywhere, they do go somewhere."

"Where?" Gwen prompted after Jack fell back into a pensive silence.

He raised his arm and gestured at the sky. "Out there."

Gwen frowned. "The sky?"

"Beyond the sky. Space."

"Like... the moon?" Gwen ventured. "The sun?"

"Farther than that. Much farther. Where the stars and planets should be."

"What do you mean 'should?'"

Jack sighed, letting his arm fall to his side. "A long time ago," he said, "I met a man. A very strange man, out of his time in more ways than one. He didn't understand it either, but he said that there were cracks in the universe, and sometimes things fell through them, taking them out of time itself. Erasing them from existence."

Gwen swallowed and hugged herself. "And... that's what happened to the stars?"

Jack shrugged. "That's what he implied anyway. Explains a lot, though, doesn't it?"

"You mean the stars?" Gwen said, staring up at the gray sky.

"Among other things, but yes, the stars. A worldwide memory of something that ceased to exist before any human could ever have seen it."

"But wait," Gwen said, "If the stars were erased from time, how can we remember them? If they never existed."

"Some people have some immunity. There are a lot of 'stargazers' in Cardiff, probably because of the proximity to the Rift. Torchwood employees have it even stronger, since we're more aware of the problem." Jack sighed deeply and stepped backwards, away from the edge of the roof. "Sometimes I think I can remember a whole other life, with stars and other worlds and beauty beyond explanation."

Gwen stepped forwards to meet him. "Because of your..."

Jack shrugged again and slung an arm over her shoulder when she shivered. "Maybe. Who knows? I can't remember how it happened, or even where I came from. It's those little inconsistencies - like the fact that I shouldn't exist - that keep us aware of these holes, the things that should be there but aren't."

Gwen closed her eyes and leaned into Jack's embrace, a lump in her throat. So many things that could have been, that should be...

She jumped when she felt a buzzing from her coat pocket. She awkwardly disengaged from Jack's arms to scramble for her phone.

"Figures," Jack laughed, even as Gwen answered and waved at him to shut up. "Why does your phone always manage to go off right when we're having a nice little moment?"

She rolled her eyes at him before turning away to listen. After a minute or two of "Yes? Yes. No, not really. Where exactly?" she turned back to Jack, covering the mouthpiece with her hand.

"It's Andy," she reported. "Say's he's got a 'spooky-doo' if we're interested. Reports of missing people been coming in for a few weeks, only it keeps turning out a false alarm..."

She sounded doubtful, trying to condense Andy's vague and somewhat contradictory story, but Jack's amused look turned dark.

"Tell him we'll be there shortly."

Gwen looked confused, but obeyed. "We'll be there shortly."

They were on the road soon after she hung up, having grabbed Owen and accepted their nightly servings of coffee, helpfully transferred to travel mugs, from Ianto on the way out the door. Ianto and Tosh were on standby back at the Hub, waiting for either the call that would tell them to back them up or to go home.

It wasn't a long drive by any measure, but it was uncomfortably silent. Jack was glowering at the road as he drove, and hadn't spoken since he'd barked orders at his team before they left. Gwen was staring out the window, up at the dark, cloudy sky, wondering about stars and lost worlds and a nagging itch at the back of her mind that something wasn't quite right. She'd latched on to the feeling since Jack had mentioned it on the rooftop with the strange, meaningful look he sometimes gave her, but so far there had been no epiphanies about the world, just that _itch_.

Owen hadn't even bothered talking since they left the Hub, seeing their moods and resigning himself to another night of awkward silences and unresolved sexual tension. He spent the ride leaning his head against the window and willing them to just fuck already and get it out of their system. It'd worked when _he_ did it with Gwen.

The address Andy had given them didn't look like the spookiest of places. It was just an empty block of flats that had somehow been left unattended to by both its owner and the city. A patrol car was parked outside.

Gwen mustered up a smile for Andy, forcing herself out of her reverie and running ahead of the others to greet him with a hug.

"Hello there," he said, reciprocating the smile with a much less forced version. "Thanks for coming out."

"Oh, it's no problem," Gwen said hurriedly, before the men were in earshot and prime sarcastic comment position. "Quiet night, you know." _Like most nights._

"Good evening, PC Davidson," Jack interrupted loudly.

"Captain," Andy answered with a nod, smile fading away to be replaced with a sort of defensive apprehension.

"So, what've you called us out for?"

"Well, it's sort of strange, really," Andy began. "I mean, it started out normal enough. Got a call saying that someone'd gone missing out here, came over to investigate."

"People go missing all the time," Owen muttered, huddling in on himself and wishing he'd worn a better jacket.

"Yeah," Andy allowed, "Only we've had calls coming in about this place for quite some time now. There's no sign of a struggle or anything, just cars parked in the garage or on the street with no owners, and all the flats are empty, like all the people just decided to leave."

"Hm," Jack said distantly. He stared up at the looming building for a long moment before looking Andy sharply in the eye. "Who called you?"

Andy looked somewhat taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Who called you? Who made the report?"

"Well I don't know, do I?" Andy said. "I didn't take the actual call, it got passed to me from the call center."

"Was there anybody here waiting to meet you?"

"I - no, there wasn't." Andy frowned. "Look, what's this got to do with -"

"If I was with somebody and they suddenly disappeared, scaring me enough to call the cops, I think I'd wait for them to show up, wouldn't you?"

"I -"

"Did you come here alone?"

"What?" Andy said, startled by the change in topic. "I - yeah, it's just me."

Jack stepped past him, coat swooshing out behind him, to lean over and look past the open door of the patrol car. "Isn't it police protocol to have all patrol officers in pairs? Where's your partner?"

"I haven't got a partner," Andy said. "I never had a partner, not since Gwen quit."

Gwen fidgeted in embarrassment, a quiet apology halfway out of her mouth, but Jack wasn't done.

"All the other patrol officers have partners, don't they?"

"Look, we're a bit understaffed, alright?"

"Even if you have an odd number of people, don't you ever switch shifts around so nobody's overwhelmed? It's just common sense." He pulled his head of the car and tossed something to Andy. "I never took you for the type to wear lipstick, PC Andy."

Andy stared at the small gold colored tube, baffled, frowning in deep concentration like he was very hard to remember something. Gwen shivered, and was unable to stop another glance up at the empty sky.

"How understaffed?" Jack asked.

"What?" Andy said, his head snapping up to look back at him. "Oh, it's pretty bad, actually. We've all been working overtime for at least two weeks."

"When did you start getting calls about this place?"

"About... two weeks ago." Andy stared back at the lipstick, lost in thought.

Jack sighed deeply and stared up at the sky. "Do you believe in stars, Andy?"

"What? I don't - well, I mean, I'm not the type to rule out any possibilities," Andy said, fiddling with the lipstick and obviously trying not to come right out and say 'yes.'

"Good," Jack said. "Do us a favor, block off the whole building. Put up some tape, make some calls, I don't want anyone going in here."

Andy frowned. "You think it's something in the flats?"

"We're going to find out," Jack said. "Owen, take the top floor and work your way down. Gwen, start on the second and head up. I'll start in the basements and meet you in the middle. Yell if you find something."

They parted ways at the stairs. Gwen took a deep breath to calm herself, listening in the otherwise silent hallway as Owen's footsteps faded upwards. Her torch turned out to be unneeded - the corridor was brightly lit - but she kept the gun she'd drawn once they were out of Andy's sight in her hand. The silence in the building was nerve-racking, and her conversation with Jack was still wearing on her mind. With the added strangeness of the questions he'd asked Andy and the grim determination she'd seen in his face, she was tense, twitchy, deeply afraid and saddened by something she couldn't define.

Most of the flats were unlocked, and Gwen made her search quickly. It yielded nothing out of the ordinary, no sign of any struggles or anything. The only discrepancy she saw was that most of the flats had left their lights on, but the more she looked in the building, the more she was overcome with the feeling of wrong wrong _wrong_.

The door of the fifth flat in the hall was ajar and a soft gold-white light emanated from within. Swallowing back her irrational fear that some horrible monster would jump out at her, Gwen pushed open the door with the muzzle of her gun.

Inside, the TV was on, though the sound was off. Its mild bluish light flickered across the room, and Gwen sighed in relief. She stepped inside and crossed over to it, pressing the power button and leaning against the wall to collect herself.

Really, it was ridiculous, jumping about like this. She needed to get herself together, get over the emotions racing in her head. There was nobody here but her and Jack and Owen, and Andy outside. The reports were probably a running prank among local kids, a waste of time for all of them.

She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes. The flat was still lit with a muted golden shine, flickering gently and casting her shadow to the far wall. The lights were all turned off.

Gwen's breath hitched, but she steeled herself and readied her pistol. She looked around: the light was coming from the open bedroom door, to the left of where she had just been leaning against the wall.

She stepped cautiously into the room, gun first. In the otherwise dark room, a bright light shone from one of the walls, leaking out of a large, jagged crack right above the bed. As she watched, it looked like little golden strings were waving in an intangible wind, reaching out from the crack towards -

Gwen stumbled backwards out of the room, her heart racing. She reached up to tap her earpiece without breaking her stare at the crack. _Cracks in the universe,_ she remembered.

"Jack," she said as soon as she heard the connecting beep, "I think I've found it. Second floor, fifth flat." She swallowed. "Hurry."

"_What is it?_" Jack said, and she could hear him panting as he hurried up the stairs.

"It's... it's a crack in the wall. I dunno, it feels wrong, Jack. It's more than just a crack, it's..."

"_Don't go near it, Gwen_," Jack ordered. "_Just wait for me, I'm almost there. Whatever you do, don't touch it._"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Gwen whispered. The golden threads drifted in invisible currents and the light from the crack was warm and inviting. She could feel it pulling at her, somewhere between her mind and her body, luring her in with a welcome invitation. It terrified her.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway behind her. Gwen took another step backwards, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the horrible crack until Jack's hand closed around her own. He pressed gently against them, easing her into lowering the gun she had still been pointing uselessly in front of her.

"It's one of those things you mentioned before," Gwen said. "One of those... cracks. In the universe."

"Yeah," said Jack.

"Have you seen this kind of thing before?"

"Too many times," he said quietly. "I've probably even lost people to it before."

"Probably?"

"It's hard to hold on to the memory of the things that get pulled through," he murmured. "They're completely gone from time; the only things they leave behind are vague feelings and inconsistencies, like Andy's lipstick."

He squeezed her hand, rubbing her fingers gently.

"It's probably what got rid of all the people here," Jack continued.

"What people?" Gwen asked, finally turning her head away from the spectacle to look up at Jack's face.

"It's a block of flats in the middle of a big city," Jack pointed out. "The flats are all fully furnished in every room. There should be people in it. Even if it were abandoned, why leave everything behind? Why haven't the homeless moved in? There aren't even any cobwebs, because it's taken all the spiders, too."

"I didn't -" Gwen started, then looked over her shoulder at the living room. Having it pointed out to her, the void where the residents should have been stood out as plain as day. "I didn't even notice," she continued, disgusted. "The walls are covered with empty frames with blank photographs, and I didn't think anything was out of the ordinary. It didn't even occur to me."

"That's what it does," Jack said in a resigned sort of voice. "If you aren't focusing hard on what's missing, you would never think anything was wrong. But the whole world, the whole universe, is missing things that should exist."

"Is there anything we can do?" Gwen asked, turning her attention back to the wall.

"Not really," Jack said. "Try and stop people from wandering into it. Close off the area."

"There has to be _something_!" Gwen said, shutting her eyes. "Can't we close it up somehow? There must be something we can do."

"No," Jack said sternly. "Getting too close to that thing would just end in being erased. I'm not risking any of you." He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him.

"But -"

"And I'm only immortal; I don't think it counts for being erased from history."

Gwen stared back at the crack. That pulling feeling was still there, tugging at the back of her head. "What's on the other side?"

"Who knows. Maybe nothing. Maybe the things it's already devoured. Is it really worth finding out?"

He squeezed her shoulder one last time before heading back out the door. "Owen," he said into his earpiece, "Meet us outside. We're done here."

_"Did you find something?"_ Owen asked.

"Yup. Another crack. We're gonna close off the area."

"_Fuck_," Owen said. "_Another one? It feels like it wasn't that long since we found that one eating lorries out in Splott_."

"Splott?" Gwen asked, frowning.

"_You were off flower shopping or some shit, Gwen_," Owen said, "_Jack took Ianto and me_."

"Oh," she murmured.

They met up with Andy outside. Jack went back into boss-mode and started ordering Andy to get a police cordon around the building while fending off any questions. "Nothing for you to worry about. Torchwood business. Classified."

Gwen stood off to the side, not really listening. Her mind was full of flowers. She _had_ gone flower shopping a while ago. It had been fun. She'd especially liked the blue ones...

Owen slinked up behind Gwen and grabbed her arm gently.

"You alright?"

"What?" Gwen said, snapping out of it. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

"You're crying," Owen said quietly. "Did something happen in there?"

"No," Gwen said firmly, wiping her eyes in surprise. "I'm just... I must be tired is all. I don't..."

She stopped, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Owen was still holding onto her arm, but his hand had slipped down to her wrist, and she could tell he was trying to take her pulse without being obvious about it. Checking for symptoms of something worse.

"I'm fine," Gwen repeated, and pulled her arm away. Seeing Jack dismiss Andy and turn back to join them, she did her best to look normal. "Are we heading back to the Hub, then?"

Jack shook his head. "Nah, I think we're done for the night. I'll call back and tell Tosh and Ianto to head home. Owen, take the SUV and drive Gwen home."

"You sure?" Gwen asked. "What about you?"

Jack smiled loftily at her. "Eh, it's not that far from here to Ianto's place. Figured I'd walk over and meet him there."

"Oh," Gwen said, somehow disappointed. "Alright."

Jack held on to her hand again as she turned to follow Owen back to the SUV. "You going to be okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Gwen said, but she was fighting back tears again. She turned a choked sob into a meager laugh. "I just hate going back to that flat. It's way too big for just me."

Jack smiled sadly at her as she pulled away. Her hand slipped out of his, her empty ring finger sliding past his calloused fingertips.

Gwen jogged after Owen to huddle in the passenger seat, holding back the tears from the heartache she couldn't remember.

Jack sighed and stared up at the blank sky, and willed the stars to come back.


	4. 1977: Curiosity

_1977 - A Security Guard_

The warehouse wasn't locked. There was a fence for which she'd had to find a hole to crawl through, and quite a number of security cameras to avoid, but the warehouse itself opened with little resistance.

It was still business hours, so it was probably open for the staff to use, but really, they should have had something more protecting it. Off-season exhibits weren't perhaps the usual targets for thieves, but one had to be careful.

It was a good thing for the museum that _she_ wasn't a thief. She pulled out her notepad and pen and looked for a good place to start.

Exhibit pieces, tagged and filed away or covered in sheets filled the building to a nearly claustrophobic extent. It was horribly dusty, and quite poorly lit, with the flickering lights half obscured by the pieces and shelves. She squinted in the darkness as she carefully rummaged through them. She wasn't willing to risk pulling out her torch just yet, for fear of drawing attention should someone come inside.

All of the pieces were fascinating, even scattered away from the rest of their exhibits, but none of them were quite what she was looking for. She gave up on pushing the heavy objects away to file through them and began looking at the tags attached to each: EGYP, no, GREC, probably not, MEDI EUR, no, ROME, possibly? But it didn't look like what she was looking for. Maybe it had its own category.

"I know it's in this warehouse," she murmured to herself. "It simply must be." She sighed and stared out into the dark, seemingly endless room. "Maybe further back."

The trouble was, there wasn't yet an exhibit to look for. That was the whole point of coming here, to see it before anyone else. Who knew how long it would take before they decided to put it all on show? They'd had the darn thing for years already, and were just putting off the public release so they could do more research on it.

She wandered further back, sucking the back of her pen thoughtfully. When she saw something that caught her interest, she would lean over to peer at its tag, only to dismiss it and flounce over to the next one. Her unimpeded journey made her more confident, and she swung her arms as she walked, taking her time to admire the miscellany.

She was digging though a stack of prints and paintings, getting dust all over her arms and clothes, when a beam of light flicked over the shelves.

She froze, her pen in her mouth, and listened. Footsteps.

Silently, she put the paintings down and climbed over them, into the forest of exhibit pieces. Wedged between what felt like two plastic palm trees, she held her breath and watched the light dance across the room.

The light was followed by a lone security guard, waving his torch in an absent, bored sort of way. _Just a routine patrol,_ she thought, and stayed perfectly still as he walked by the paintings she'd been examining. He would carry on, pass her, and double back through one of the other aisles, and she could keep looking. She only hoped he wouldn't lock the door behind him.

Instead, he sighed and came to a stop. "This place is off-limits to visitors," he said in a very bored tone. "Could you please come out? I know you're there."

She stayed perfectly still against the palm tree.

He sighed again. "I can hear you."

He was bluffing. She hadn't so much as _twitched_ and she couldn't hear her own breaths – experience and her basic UNIT training had helped to overcome those sorts of urges. His light was still haphazardly pointed at the paintings, in the opposite direction than her hiding place, and he seemed more interested in adjusting his sleeve cuff than looking.

She took a cautious step backwards, still completely silent.

Another, deeper sigh. "Look, I mean it, I can hear you rustling around in there." He turned to look in her direction. The torchlight illuminated the fake palm trees the museum used for all its 'exotic' exhibits, no matter if they were native to the area of the display. Nobody was there.

She clambered as quietly as she could through the darkness, feeling her way. Maybe if she could make it to the other side of the shelf, she could get into the next aisle and have a clear path to the exit. She didn't want to leave, of course, not without her story, but it wasn't worth getting arrested for again. Maybe she could stake out the entrance and sneak in after the guard came out.

She could hear him walking over to the palm trees, muttering under his breath. She sped up. Her heart raced as she stumbled out into the open. More piles and lines of exhibit props and decorations lay scattered before her. Maybe she could hide?

She dove under one of the dust cloths. She huddled awkwardly in the uneven gaps between the covered objects, trying not to breathe. Her eyes clenched shut.

Footsteps came close and passed by her.

Assured that the guard was far enough away, she cautiously lifted the edge of the sheet to make her way out. She looked to the left and right, as if she were crossing a busy road, before turning to make sure the cloth was back in the right place.

A stone idol stared back at her through its single eyestalk.

She stumbled backwards, a scream ripping involuntarily from her throat. The idol's strange arms seemed to reach out for her, the stone cup on one side straining to grab her face. Something twitched deep within her, a thousand voices ringing in her head.

_EXTERMINATE EXTERMINATE EXTERMINATE __**EXTERMINATE**_

She found herself huddled against the shelf, her arms over her head. The security guard was leaning over her, trying to gently coax her out.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I -" she stuttered, "I was... it was going to...!"

"It can't hurt you," he said, glancing over his shoulder. The stone idol stood in its place, unmoving, the sheet caught on one of the semi-spheres of its lower body. "It's just an old relic."

"It's not -" she began to protest, but the thought was fleeting, and she stopped herself. "Thank you," she said instead. "I'm sorry, it just... frightened me."

"It's alright," he said, and offered her a hand. She accepted, embarrassed, and he pulled her up. "You're really not supposed to be in here," he added.

"Oh," she said, "right. You aren't going to turn me in, are you?"

"What were you doing in here?"

"I'm not a thief," she said firmly. "My name is Sarah Jane Smith. I'm a reporter."

The guard glanced around the dark warehouse. "And you thought you'd find a story here?"

"There is a story here," Sarah Jane insisted. "I can feel it. Reporter's instincts, you know." She dusted off her trousers, which were quite covered with dust, and walked confidently past the guard. "You see, I'd heard about how they've recently gotten possession of the Pandorica. I just had to come see it for myself. Who knows how long it'll be before they actually put it on display, if ever? I've always been rubbish at resisting mysteries, and the Pandorica is one of the greatest ones in all of history."

"What do you want with it?"

Sarah Jane looked at him in surprise. His face had darkened, a deep frown peeking out from the shadow of his cap.

"I... I just want to see it, I suppose," she confessed. "See if I can find anything about it to write about. But it's mostly just curiosity. I've always liked strange things. I even joined the Star Cult for a little while, just to see what it was all about. Didn't even end up writing a real story, but, well, I just think there's so much strange and wonderful in the world and I want to know about it."

The security guard was still looking at her strangely.

"You see, I used to travel a lot," she rambled, not quite able to stop herself. "All over. I saw so much history and so many exotic places and I -" She stopped. "Never mind," she said quietly. "It's not important."

"Who did you travel with?" the guard asked her. He stepped forward to join her, and brushed her arm gently, leading her further into the warehouse.

"Nobody. I mean, I didn't travel. Not much."

"Why did you say you did?"

"I don't know," Sarah Jane said, frustrated. "I just did. I do that sometimes. I think I mix up my dreams with my memories quite a bit. And I have a terrible memory. Do you know, I used to be an unofficial member of UNIT, and I honestly can't think why?"

"It's not that strange," the guard said. "I've heard that sort of thing a lot."

He stopped at what must have been the very back of the warehouse. Sarah Jane could hardly see in the darkness, but he let go of her arm and strolled out of sight easily.

"I can see pretty well in the dark," his voice called back to her, "So I usually don't bother turning the lights on back here. Hang on a moment."

"Alright," Sarah Jane said, confused. She had thought he must have been leading her to an exit or an office, somewhere where he could chastise her for sneaking in and escort her away, but here she was, standing in the dark, telling him about her silly dreams. She wondered if she should make a run for it.

The lights flickered into life and the thoughts ran out of her mind like startled cockroaches.

The Pandorica was gorgeous, even covered with dust and in the terrible light. It loomed over her, grey walls with fantastical etchings and carvings, huge and mysterious and more than she had ever imagined.

"Oh wow," she whispered and took a step towards it.

"Don't touch it," the security guard warned, stepping out from somewhere behind the box. "I can't risk it opening too early."

"I won't," said Sarah Jane, circling the Pandorica slowly. Then she stopped as his words caught up with her. "What do you mean, you can't risk it opening? Has that happened?"

When she turned to look at him, he was staring up at the Pandorica with a sort of sadness Sarah Jane had never seen before. His cap was held loosely in his hand, finally giving her a clear look at his face.

The stack of paintings flashed back into her mind, the first of the promising artifacts she'd seen; a man wearing armor and a cape pulling a box through a wall of fire; a tag on the side that read PAND - LOND 1941. The painting hadn't been clear, and really, the man looked like just an average sort of person, somewhere in his twenties, taking the job to pay the bills and because of a vague interest in history, but something in his eyes told her that was wrong.

The research she'd read before coming had told her a brief history of the Pandorica's journey, surrounded by myth and legend, kings and travelers and an eternal guardian.

"Who are you?"

The guard glanced back at her. "Rory Williams," he answered reluctantly, in a cautious, unfamiliar sort of way, like he wasn't sure.

"That's a funny sort of name for a Centurion," she said, testing him.

He didn't deny it. He just gave her a sort of sideways, _whatever_ kind of look and sat down on one of the nearby shelves.

Sarah Jane sat next to him, wrapping her arms around the backs of her knees. "Really though, how did you get here? This is the stuff of legends, and you're just... here. In a dusty old warehouse."

Rory shrugged. "I got rid of the armor and cape during World War II. Thought it might draw less attention. I stayed with the Pandorica, but got myself employed by whoever got it instead of just keeping put with it. I figured a museum would have to be pretty safe, as long as nobody opened it."

"Does anyone know that you're... you know..."

"A couple. Not many. But I've had to take a bit of action to stop them doing anything to it, so, yeah."

She looked back up at the box. "Why can't it be opened?"

"Not time yet."

"Come on," Sarah Jane urged, turning to face him fully instead of out towards the box. "Tell me. I have to know."

Rory raised an eyebrow at her. "For your story?"

"For me," she said. "I just have to know."

Rory stared impassively up at the Pandorica. After a long silence, he said, "I'll trade you."

"Trade for what?"

"Tell me your story," he said.

"Wh-what do you mean?" asked Sarah Jane. She couldn't think of anything about her life that could be interesting to a 1800 year old Centurion.

"I told you, I've met people like you before." Rory was smiling, just slightly. "Not very many, mind, but I think they must be drawn to 'strange things,' like you are."

"People like me?"

"With dreams of stars and planets and ancient history. Memories that are impossible. Daleks. Cybermen. Flying police boxes."

Sarah Jane gaped at him wordlessly.

"You were afraid of that Dalek," he prompted. "You knew what it was, somewhere in your mind."

"I was... I was on Skarro," she said, and the words were strange, utter nonsense, but they rang about in her head, and she clung to them. She smiled, filled with immense relief. They felt right.

"You'll tell me, though," she insisted, pulling out her pen and paper again. "You'll tell me about the Pandorica?"

"Yeah," Rory said.

"Okay," said Sarah Jane. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Images flashed behind her eyelids, strange and impossible and so familiar. "I was pretending to be my aunt, I snuck into a UNIT base for a story. I climbed into a police box and came out in Medieval Europe, and that's how I met the Doctor..."


	5. 2007: Memory

_2007 - Luke Smith_

He was still staring out the window when Luke heard the door creak.

"Luke?" said his mother quietly. Seeing him up and sitting on the windowsill instead of in bed like he should have been, she pushed the door all the way open. "It's nearly three in the morning. You should get some sleep."

"Right," Luke said. "Sorry, Mum. Just finishing some reading."

Sarah Jane looked at him skeptically. There was a book in front of him, but it had fallen closed when he'd lost interest in it some time ago.

"Is something wrong, Luke?" she asked, stepping into the room. She stepped nimbly over the mess of dirty clothes and his overflowing book bag on his floor to sit next to him. "You've seemed rather... distant lately."

"Is that bad?"

"It's not necessarily a bad thing, no. But I worry."

"Sorry," Luke said softly. He scooted back into the corner of the windowsill to make room for Sarah Jane.

"It's nothing to apologize for, Luke," she said. "But I want you to know that if there's ever anything on your mind, you can tell me. Alright?"

"I know," he reassured her. But he turned back out the window and stared out at the sky. They sat in silence for a long moment before he finally asked, "Mum, where did I come from?"

Sarah Jane was slightly taken aback. "Well," she began uncertainly.

Luke interrupted, hearing her tone of voice. "I don't mean people in general. Or babies. I read about that at school. And I know that you adopted me."

"That's right," Sarah Jane said. "Maria and I found you in that Bubble Shock factory."

"I know," Luke said. "That's exactly what I mean. What was I doing in a soda factory? Why wasn't anybody else there? Why can't I remember anything before that? I almost want to say that I was born there, as I am now, but that makes no sense. Everyone has to come from somewhere."

Sarah Jane frowned, trying to put together a vague feeling into a comprehensible explanation.

"Clyde says it must be that I just forgot it. Like something traumatizing happened and I blocked it out," Luke continued, quietly. "Only I don't forget things. It's literally impossible for me to forget anything. I know that. So why can't I remember this?"

He stared at Sarah Jane in silence, his big eyes filled with desperation. There were just so many things he knew, but didn't know why, and it infuriated him. Sarah Jane was his mother, and had been for as long as he could remember; she had to have the answer.

But Sarah Jane just grasped his hand and said carefully, "Sometimes, there are things in life that don't make sense."

Luke pulled his hand away and turned back to the window, leaning his forehead against it. _So much for help._

"No, Luke, listen to me," Sarah Jane said. "When I first found you, when Maria brought you to me, she couldn't tell me where you'd come from. And you couldn't understand the simplest things, like family, or love, do you remember?"

"Yes," he said. "I remember everything."

"And you don't have a belly button," she added.

Luke just looked up at her. It had never particularly bothered him.

"And when I was younger, I used to work for UNIT, even though I had no qualifications or useful skills. I traveled, for a long time, but I never left home."

Luke frowned. "That doesn't -"

"Make sense, I know," Sarah Jane finished with a small smile. She sighed and gazed upwards at the seam of the window and the wall. "You see, a long time ago, I met a man. A very strange man, full of wonderful stories. And he told me that the world doesn't make sense, because time has gone off in the wrong direction."

"What do you mean?"

"People, things, events, they've all disappeared, leaving holes behind. All we have left are feelings that something's wrong. And it's possible we'll never get those things back."

Luke pondered that. "Are you saying that my birth was... disappeared? But I'm still here."

"I suppose that is what I'm saying," Sarah Jane said.

Luke gazed back out the window at the sky. The streetlamps twinkled through the glass. "Is that what happened to the stars?"

"Who knows," said Sarah Jane.

"I bet Mr. Smith would."

Sarah Jane frowned at him. "How would my computer know?"

Luke shrugged. It didn't make sense, now that he thought about it. But apparently, nothing in the world did.

He stared at the dark sky for a long time, thinking. "We should have a dog," he said.

"Yeah," said Sarah Jane, reaching an arm out and pulling him close to her. "We should.


	6. 1981: Wonder

_1981 - Security_

With all of his duties, he spent a lot of time wandering around the whole museum. It was sort of annoying at first - he had agreed to let the Pandorica be put on display, yes, and it was normal for exhibits to go on tour sometimes, go to different museums, but he hadn't really meant to end up as regular staff. He was supposed to watch the box, and that was it.

Instead he found himself with a schedule and rounds to make and a lunch break. It was really a far cry from his earlier years of fighting off bandits and threatening kings with godly vengeance.

Even with the little velvet rope around the box that did a remarkably good job stopping anyone touching it, he made sure to check on the Pandorica as often as he could. Given his route for the rounds, he usually managed to get back to it every fifteen to thirty minutes.

Which was why, on this particular day, he noticed that after his fifth pass by the exhibit, that man was still just standing there, staring at the box.

The man had been there since hours ago. It was possible he'd been in other exhibits first, but the man had stopped in the Pandorica's room and gone over every figure, every plaque, every audio tour. The young girl who had been with him had evidently grown bored and wandered off to see the rest of the museum. After that, he'd just placed himself in front of the Pandorica and not moved.

"Excuse me sir," said the security guard, approaching the man. "Is everything all right?"

The man looked up with a slightly distracted jolt. He had a graying beard and mustache and was wearing a knit cap. "Oh," he said. "Oh yes, I'm quite fine."

"You're not lost are you? Didn't you have a young woman with you earlier?"

"Oh, that's just my granddaughter. She'll have gone to see something upstairs. She'll find me, don't worry. Always does. Just doesn't want to put up with her wacky old granddad."

"Well," he said, unsure. "Kids, you know. I guess."

"Oh, well, she has her reasons. It's hard being the granddaughter of the crazy old man staring up at the sky every night." The man turned back to the Pandorica, looking up at the top of the box. "It's quite a thing, isn't it, this box."

He glanced up at it. "Yeah."

"Don't know what it is really. It just looks like something from a completely different world. You know what I mean? I can't help it; I'm drawn to things like this. Out of this world. Mysterious. Something straight out of the stars." He laughed. "Of course you don't really care. Listen to me, a loony old man rambling on. I promise you Mister - " he paused to peer at the name badge hanging off the security guard's vest " - Williams, I'm not hurting anything, you can go about your duties."

"That's all right. I don't mind."

"Hah," said the man. "All right then. I'm probably just going to keep looking at this box, though, Mister Williams. Might keep talking. I do that sometimes. Comes with getting old. You get to feel you're entitled to just keep rambling on."

"...Rory," the security guard corrected. He looked up at the box as well. "And I really don't mind. I spend most of my time in this exhibit too."

"Oh? Well then, it's nice to meet a kindred soul." He offered up a gloved hand from his jacket pocket. "Wilfred Mott."

"Nice to meet you," said Rory.

"You a Stargazer too?" asked Wilfred. "Mind, you don't have to answer. I know it's a sensitive thing. Most folks don't want to admit in public. Can't blame them, I suppose. My daughter doesn't approve. I just figure I'm getting too old to worry about what people think."

Rory didn't think he looked all that old. He seemed rather young to be a grandfather, in fact. Of course, being nearly 2000 years old himself, his ability to tell might have gone a bit off.

"I've seen stars," said Rory. "Planets and galaxies. They'll be back someday."

"You think so?" Wilfred said with a warm laugh. "You've seen them? I have to say, I've never heard anyone make that claim before. Where've they gone then?"

Rory smiled a bit. Wilfred was really quite a character. His tone didn't sound mocking or disbelieving at all, just warm and interested.

"Don't know," said Rory. "Slipped through cracks in the universe. Maybe they'll come back when the box opens."

"Oh I'd like to see that," said Wilfred. "Can you imagine. Life and light just spilling out. Make the world make sense again. What a wonderful thought."

Rory smiled up at the box. Life and light and everything that was right in the world. It'd all come back when the box opened. "Yeah," he said. "It is."

They both stood at the base of the box, gazing up at the top. Long minutes passed, and Rory was distantly aware that he was shirking his rounds, but it wasn't as if anybody would fire him. It was one of those rare occasions he'd come to look forward to, someone who really seemed to know about the world, even if they weren't aware of it.

The silence was broken when a pair of angry feet stomped into the room and up to Wilfred.

"Granddad!" whined the voice of the thirteen-year-old girl attached to them. "I'm bored, let's go get lunch already. You've been in here ages."

"Oh yes, quite right," said Wilfred, absently patting his granddaughter's bright red hair. "Well, sorry to leave you, Mister Williams, but duty calls. You know how it is."

"Right," said Rory. "I should get back to, you know. It was nice meeting you."

"Absolutely," said Wilfred, holding out his hand again. His granddaughter rolled her eyes and tugged on his jacket. "You think of me when that thing opens, all right?"

"Sure," said Rory. He shook the offered hand with a smile. "Watch out for cracks in the universe."

"I'll do my best," Wilfred laughed.

"Granddaaaaaaaad," the girl whined.

"All right all right I'm coming. Let's go, Donna."

He held his granddaughter's hand and led her out of the room. Even with her annoyed tone of voice, she was skipping after him happily. "I don't wanna go home yet. Can we get hot dogs?"

"Hot dogs? And your mother's back at home making a wonderful homemade lunch for us. Of course we can get hot dogs."

Rory smiled after them. "I mean it," he said quietly. "The universe needs more people like you."

He sighed and turned away from the box and headed out to finish his rounds.


	7. 2009: Adventure

_2009 - Donna Noble_

Donna stumbled into the kitchen and ripped open the door to the fridge. Its contents did not please her. She glared at the nearly empty carton of milk; maybe enough for a small bowl of cereal, but then there'd be none for tomorrow morning and that would be even worse. _Stupid milk._

"Don't just leave the door open." Sylvia glared at her daughter on her way to the sink.

"I'm still _looking_," Donna snarled back. She grabbed the milk and chugged the last of it straight from the carton. Her mother scowled.

"Did you fill up the car?"

"No, I forgot."

Sylvia had a talent for silent glares that conveyed complete and utter disapproval. As if Donna had gone out of her way to not fill up the tank with petrol just to spite her. And her lips were pursed tight, which signaled that very shortly there would be an outpouring of all of the ways in which Donna had ever failed her.

_Can't keep a job. Finds a job and quits it. Gets engaged. Throws a wedding. Misses the wedding and won't explain why. Spends every day driving around with the boot filled with clothes, aimlessly driving, never going anywhere, ruining her life._

Donna'd heard it all before. She shut the fridge and walked back out into the hall before it could start.

"Where's Granddad? I want to talk to him."

"What are you talking about?" Sylvia asked, exasperated and obviously annoyed with being denied her sermon.

"You know, your father? Silly old doof with a telescope? Where's he wandered off to?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Donna, I haven't got a father."

"Whatever he's done this time, just because you've disowned him again doesn't mean _I'm_ about to."

"Stop spouting nonsense, Donna! Look at you, coming home at all hours, acting so high and mighty even though you can't even hold a job, wasting money and time driving around and then making up stories –"

"Whatever! _Don't_ tell me!" Donna shouted. She grabbed her coat and slung it over her shoulders. "I'll go find him myself."

She slammed the door on her mother's shouting and stomped outside. It was bloody _freezing,_ of course, but she wasn't going back in to get her gloves. She would not give her mother the satisfaction.

Her whole life had been such a mess lately; not because of the things her mother was saying, though she wasn't particularly proud of those either, but because of an awful feeling that she was missing something. Donna was just so sick of her life, flying from job to job. She wanted to travel, to see amazing things and _be_ someone.

Sometimes she thought she really could be somebody. She could help people. Fight for freedom. Save lives. Protect people. Save the world. Who knows? The sky was the limit.

She stared up at the sky, black and grey and empty and horrible and it crushed her. Who was she kidding? She was nobody. She would never be anybody. No kind of hero. Not a traveler or a songwriter or a doctor. Just Donna Noble, unemployed.

She shook her head and resumed her walk, giving up the stomp for a listless dragging of her feet.

She dragged them up the hill to Wilfred's usual 'stargazing' spot. Crazy as he was, Donna loved her old granddad. He was all optimism and cheer, and that was the only thing that could pull her out of her funks. He'd tell her stories of heroes, ordinary people who became amazing. Sometimes they'd both just sit there, on the hill. Wilf liked to look up at the sky, even though there was nothing to see but the moon and clouds. He'd direct his little telescope up and stare into the darkness for a flicker of light. Donna preferred to point it at the lights of the city. At least that was something to look at.

The telescope was set up with the blanket, as always, but there was nobody in sight.

"Granddad?" Donna called. "Hellooooo, Granddad, where are you?"

No answer.

She sighed and sat down on the grass, gazing angrily at the telescope. There were no stars to look at, everyone knew that. But she'd still wanted to hear her grandfather talk about them. Now he wasn't here either.

The telescope wasn't pointed at the sky, she realized. It was angled low, towards the bottom of the hill.

Donna frowned and got to her feet. She could see, off in the distance, a flicker of bright white light.

It was clearer through the telescope. A small jagged line of light, peeking through the short grass at the base of the hill.

Up close, it wasn't so small. It lay on the ground, harmless looking, except for the bright glow. Long strings of golden light drifted out from it.

Donna kept her distance.

"What the hell is _this_?" she shouted at nobody in particular. "This is bloody _ridiculous_."

The crack didn't answer.

"Granddad?" she called again. "Are you down here? What the hell is this thing?"

Still nothing.

Donna glared at the crack. Stupid thing. Wild goose chase. Wilfred wasn't here either. It just served to remind her of all the things going wrong.

The crack glowed like starlight.

There were no stars, but Donna knew starlight when she saw it. And, come to think of it, her granddad probably did too. He was the one who told her about such things. About stars and legends and magic boxes. He took her to all those places as a kid, museums and the like, and they'd look at all the strange things in the world. Someone once told him to look out for cracks in the universe and he'd laughed like that was the most brilliant thing he'd ever heard.

He'd never have been able to resist one when he found it.

Donna glanced behind her, at the bright city. Windows flickered exactly like the night sky didn't.

She glowered back at the crack, which shimmered.

"This is all a load of bollocks," she told it firmly. "Stars don't exist and you don't either."

It flickered with the light of a million stars.

"Hmph," she said. "_Fine_ then. Whatever. I don't care _what_ you are, but you're wrong. You're just a field of time energy caused by two bits of space-time that shouldn't touch. You'd close with just a complex space-time event to consume!"

Nothing.

"Fine," she spat, and stomped over to it, filled again with that righteous anger against the world. Only this time, she felt a thrill of excitement down her back. For the first time in years, Donna Noble felt _right_.

"I've been wanting an adventure anyway."

The next morning, Sylvia Noble had no milk for her cereal, and when she went to buy more, the car was out of petrol. She raged and glowered, but she had nobody to blame but herself.


	8. 1996: Nostalgia

1996 - Rory Williams

She had bounced all through the queue, impatient to get inside for reasons she wouldn't have been able to describe. With her ticket in hand, she tore away from her hapless aunt, who tried in vain to both keep up and see something of the exhibits. The girl proved too hard to keep track of though, and she disappeared into the crowd. Amelia was too confident of herself, once she'd ventured beyond the watchful eye of her aunt, oblivious to the idea that somebody else might be watching her.

Neglecting his duty for the first time in 1,894 years, Rory Williams was not guarding the Pandorica. His eyes were fixed on the tiny little girl even as she clambered into the off-limits area to hide in the fake plants.

Had he ever been that small, he wondered? He must have been, because he definitely remembered Amelia spending most of his childhood being annoyingly larger than him. And now, to his adult eyes, she looked so small and...lonely, even in her excitement at the Pandorica.

He wondered if she missed him. Probably not. She had never known any little boys named Rory Williams, because he had been erased from time. Whatever memories the other Amy, _his_ Amy, had had of him, they were locked away in the box. Little Amelia would have no idea.

Rory pushed aside the thoughts. It was no use going down that path again; he'd had nearly 2000 years to get over his existential crisis. Centurion, security guard, or Rory Williams, he'd done his job to protect the Pandorica. Amelia coming to the museum, hiding in the Pandorica's exhibit, _his_ exhibit, had to mean something.

He watched her for a while longer, barely even seeing the rest of the throng of patrons. Eventually, he turned away, secure in the knowledge that she was safe and unseen by anyone else. Rory trusted her to know what she was doing, even at seven years old.

The rest of the day passed in an agonizing blur. He went about his regular duties, which was even more mind numbing than usual, and made sure nobody else in the security team checked on the Pandorica too thoroughly, which was easy. They all tended to leave the box to him.

At closing time, he watched Auntie Sharon search low and high for Amelia. Despite his guilt, knowing full well where the girl was, and seeing the distress of the woman who was, for years, practically his own aunt, he said nothing. Proud Sharon didn't ask for the help of the team. She left; perhaps thinking Amelia had gone home without telling her. Maybe she would call the police when the huge house was even more empty than usual.

He went through the motions of closing without thinking. Since he worked the night shift (and the morning shift, and the day shift), he said goodnight to the rest of the staff. He tried to be as casual as he could, not rushing as he got his torch and did the usual rounds.

The Pandorica was always his last stop, where he would likely spend the night, watching. Tonight, he stopped in the entryway. Voices rang out from the next room, where the box had always sat, silent and waiting. A childish one asking a question, and then one painfully, painfully familiar.

He stood, frozen, out of their sight. After all this time... what was he supposed to do? He hadn't even seen it open. She would be there, alive, perfect, and he would have no idea what to say to her.

A third voice piped up after a brief moment of quiet.

"EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!"

_What_? That wasn't supposed to happen.

A fourth voice. Again, painful in familiarity. Muttering, unclear echoes, followed by "Come along, Ponds!"

Well that _was_ supposed to happen. Still, trouble was trouble, and after 2000 years of sitting around, it was time to get some use out of his 'new' body beyond frightening museum owners into keeping his employment.

It wasn't his most brilliant plan, but it would do.

"What's going on?"

The Doctor shouted something at him, maybe at the Dalek, but Rory paid him no mind. He knew what he was doing. Probably.

"INTRUDER UNARMED," the Dalek said, and that seemed as good a cue as any.

"You think?" he asked, and opened fire.


	9. Epilogue

_1996_

The box flies into the sky, sending the ceiling crashing all around them. Rory and Amy cling to each other, she sobs into his chest, and they and River stare up into the sky.

It bursts.

Everything changes.

Time is ripped open again, far into the past and all the way into the future.

_1941_

He awoke with a gasp, as usual, and looked around in a brief moment of confusion. It got dark while he was dead, which was handy for a quick escape, but kind of annoying to wake up to. He sat up, somewhat disgusted to find his hands slipping in a pool of his own blood. Never pleasant.

But the blood meant that he was all the more likely to be marked as 'deceased' instead of 'AWL,' even if nobody had actually witnessed him dying. He could always change the records once he was back in Cardiff, but he _had_ died, for about the fourth time, and he didn't want to be marked as a deserter.

In a sense, Jack _was_ deserting, but fighting alien invaders could be just as bad as fighting Nazis, and he didn't want to run into one of his past selves running around. The Doctor would never forgive him if he created a paradox.

The all-clear siren rang out, making Jack flinch mid-stretch. He had to get going if he wanted to avoid people on their way out of the shelters.

Making a face at the soggy squelching sound, he shrugged his coat onto his shoulders. Pulling out a red-tinted cigarette, he walked quickly down the darkened streets, guided by the light of the stars.

_2008_

Another earth-shattering kaboom from the creature's powerful tail sent all three of them ducking for cover. It snarled and raged, confused by the humans' apparent disappearance.

"Ianto," Jack called into his earpiece, half teasing singsong and half desperation, "We need that gun over here _now_."

_"We're on our way, sir,_" Ianto's calm voice replied. "_Should be there soon._"

"How soon is soon?"

"_Three minutes,_" Toshiko's voice replied. There was a screech of tires through the speaker that made them all flinch. "_Maybe five._"

"Shit," Jack muttered. "Right, you two stay under cover 'til they arrive. I'll try and draw its fire." He was gone before either of them could protest.

With all the noise from the alien stomping around, Gwen barely heard her phone go off.

"If that's PC Andy again," Owen said, "Tell him to fuck off. The next time he has a 'residential disturbance' he has to take care of it himself."

Gwen rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, love. Listen, I'm a bit busy right now, so if you could just catch me up later... Yes, I'll be back for dinner. Yes, Rhys, I promise!"

The alien's tail smacked the ground again, shaking the whole building. Somewhere in the distance, Jack yelled in surprise or pain.

"It might be an hour or two later than we'd planned though." She smiled as she reloaded her gun, the phone pinned to her ear by her shoulder. "Love you too." She hung up the phone and grinned over at Owen.

Tires screeched somewhere nearby as the Torchwood SUV swung in downstairs. The alien roared back at it.

"That's our cue," Gwen said. Assured that Owen was right behind her, she ran out from behind their shelter and took aim at the alien's turned back. "Let's get this over with so I can go home."

_1977_

"If they didn't want people going in, they ought to have locked the door," Sarah Jane said simply.

"I imagine they thought the fence, the 'keep out' signs and the vast amount of security would be enough to present the message."

"That wouldn't stop a thief."

"And are you a thief, Miss Smith?"

She smiled at him patiently. "Of course not, Brig, you know me. I just wanted to see what was going on."

"What was going on," Brigadier Letherage-Stewart repeated. "In a history museum storage facility."

"Precisely," Sarah Jane said. After a pause, she added, "Thanks for posting my bail."

"Hmph," he said. "I do wish you would stop using UNIT as your emergency contact. We are not your personal get-out-of-jail-free card."

"Of course not." She gazed out the window, trying not to laugh.

The Brigadier did his best to focus on the road ahead of him, but his eyes shifted back to Sarah Jane more and more the longer she remained silent. "Well?"

"Well what?" she asked innocently.

"Well, what did you find out?" he huffed. "I presume after going to so much effort you have something to show for it."

"Dalek armor."

He pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped so he could look her in the eye. "You're certain?"

"I was on Skarro, Brigadier. I know Dalek when I see it. It's inactive, of course, but I thought you might want to have a look at it."

The Brigadier looked at her for a moment longer. Then, with a sigh, he pulled the car around in a U-turn, and they rode back towards the museum.

_2007_

It was nearly three in the morning when Luke finally made it back to his room. He crossed over the mess of clothes on the floor and dropped his book bag next to his bed. Too full to close properly, the books came spilling out.

Luke looked at them wearily from his position leaning against the windowsill. "We still have reading to do," he said.

Clyde, wiping his face with a green towel that had been white before it was handed to him, stopped in front of the open door and stared at him with a mixture of incredulity and longsuffering. "Are you joking? Three days straight of alien ostrich hunting, and you want to study." He shook his head, sending bits of green alien goo from the ostrich eggs splatting against Sarah Jane's walls. "You make no sense, you know that?"

Luke reached down to pick up his book. "I was born in a soda factory and I haven't got a belly button. Some things don't make sense."

"Those things can be explained in one word: aliens. _You_, on the other hand, want to study. That is absolutely ridiculous."

"As much as I would like to say I disagree," said Sarah Jane, coming up the hall behind Clyde with another towel, "It's a bit late to start your reading now, Luke. Come on, get to bed."

Luke smiled at her. "Yes Mum."

"And _you_, get in the shower. You can stay the night but I am not having any of that eggy stuff on my sheets."

Clyde scraped a bit of green goo out of his hair and let it dangle in front of Sarah Jane's nose. "What, this? It's harmless!"

Sarah Jane flinched and tried to swipe his hand away, but only succeeded in getting goop on her own hand. "Yes, that!" she laughed. "Come on, shower! Now!"

"It's no fair, I'm _always_ the one getting covered in goo. Here, take some!"

Luke laughed as Sarah Jane wrestled him down the hall. A familiar whirring indicated that K-9 had finally made it up the stairs, even with his low battery, and he followed the two down the hall, leaving neat lines of green goo behind him. The metal dog turned into Luke's room.

"I thought you needed to charge," said Luke.

"**Affirmative,**" said K-9, and he settled next to one of Luke's outlets. "**This unit will soon shut down. Are you not sleeping, Master Luke?**"

"I will soon," Luke assured him.

The lights on K-9's visor dimmed as he shut down. Luke turned away to look up out of the window. A white light flew up from somewhere in the distance, flaring briefly and disappearing among the stars as the last of the ostrich ships took off on their continuing migration.

"Bed!" Sarah Jane reminded him, striding back down the hall wearing distinctly more green than she had a moment before. "You can read in the morning. And you can make sure Clyde does his, as well."

"Yes, Mum," said Luke. Sarah Jane flipped off his light as she passed, and Luke moved to his bed, still watching the stars twinkle through the window.

_1981_

Wilf sat leaning back against the stone bench with his eyes closed, letting the sunlight filtering in through the window warm his face. It was lovely. It hadn't been the most exciting excursion, but he had enjoyed it. Museums were always a pleasure, so reassuring in their mixture of facts and wonder.

"Sir?"

Wilf opened one eye to find a security guard leaning over him.

"Excuse me sir, are you quite all right?"

Wilf smiled. "Oh, fine, fine. Thank you."

"You've been sitting here over an hour, sir."

Wilf chuckled. "Well, you know how it is. Getting older, slowing down. I'm just waiting here for my granddaughter to finish exploring."

"I see." The guard straightened up, looking not altogether pleased, but satisfied with the answer. "Very well then. Enjoy your stay."

"Oh, I shall, thank you. And I have been! Have you been down to the Ancient Roman exhibit? Oh, of course you have, you have to look after it. Amazing stuff, isn't it? All those beautiful statues –"

"Yes," said the security guard, looking uncomfortable. "If you'll excuse me, I must return to my duties."

Wilfred waved him off with a look of mock urgency. "Go on, go! Hurry, before I get started on something else. You don't want to be stuck here listening to an old man prattle on. Somebody could be stealing a T-shirt from the gift shop at _this very moment!_ Hurry!"

The guard did indeed hurry off, at just short of a run, doing his best to look important. He disappeared around a corner.

Wilf chuckled and leaned back again, happy enough with the sunlight for the moment. He only opened his eyes at the echoes of Donna's footsteps.

"There you are!" he called happily, practically jumping out of his seat. "What took you? Shame on you, leaving an old man waiting by himself, dying of hunger."

"_You're_ hungry?" Donna mocked. She put her hands on her hips and leaned forwards, looking very nearly intimidating despite her size. "I had to walk _all _the way back from the top floor, because _you_ were too tired to go _with_ me!"

"Oh, you poor thing," Wilf said with a laugh. "All right, what do you say we visit the snack bar before we head home though."

"Mum's cooking lunch for us," Donna said pointedly.

"You're quite right," Wilf replied. "We'd better find an actual restaurant, then."

Donna's glare broke into a smile despite her best efforts. Wilf offered her his hand, and they walked down the hall to the gift shop exit.

_2009_

Donna left the house rolling her eyes at her mother's voice. It was cold out, but she didn't risk going back in for her gloves. Then she'd just be stuck in there, arguing again. She'd heard it all before, criticism after criticism after criticism.

What she needed was some peace and quiet. Something positive. So she headed up the hill to find her grandfather.

Wilf looked up from his telescope and smiled as she approached. Donna couldn't help smiling back.

"What're we looking at?" she asked him.

He offered her a thermos of lukewarm tea. "Stars, of course!" Wilfred laughed.

"Well obviously," Donna said, rolling her eyes. She took a sip from the thermos and looked up at the sky, scattered with bright pinpricks of light. "I meant in particular."

"Oh nothing really," Wilf said. "Keeping an eye out for spaceships."

For a moment, his face twisted into an expression of horror at what he'd said, but Donna was still gazing up at the sky and didn't notice.

"Well wouldn't that be nice," she said. "Have some aliens take us away to go on a proper adventure. Away from this boring old place."

"Well," Wilfred said, searching for a way to change the subject. "I think there's plenty of adventure down here, too."

"I suppose," said Donna, and she looked down with a smile at her ungloved hands. "And I've even got someone to whisk me away on my adventure."

"Speaking of which, what're you doing out here? Thought you and yer mum were making plans."

"_She's_ making plans," Donna said, scowling. "And pointing out all my mistakes. I'm just trying to retain a _little_ bit of hold on the plans for my own _wedding_."

"She's just happy for you. Your mum loves you, you know."

"Oh, I know." Donna sighed. "But I had to get out, and I'm not going back in there for a good hour."

"Fair enough."

"I had to leave Shaun behind. He was too slow."

"Can't blame you. Once your mother gets in one of those moods, it's every man for himself. He still wants to marry you when you get back, that's how you know you've got yourself a good one."

They both laughed. Donna lay down in the short grass, staring up at the sky as Wilfred went back to fiddling with his telescope. She raised her hand up to the light, and the diamond on her ring shone with the light of a million stars.

_2010 - Rory Pond_

"Something old," Amy says, "Something new. Something borrowed. Something blue."

Rory follows her out when she runs after the Doctor again. He has a feeling there's going to be a lot of that in the future (and past, and alternate timelines and whatever time-space exists that he hasn't figured out a word for yet), but he doesn't really mind.

They share a glance when the Doctor 'dismisses' them, and he lets her lean out of the open box and shout good-bye to their world, with all its stars back in its sky. They take up stations at the console, and while the Doctor pulls his levers and pushes his buttons, Amy stares up at the TARDIS' column. Rory looks at her, and he can see the whole universe in her eyes.

After 1,894 years of waiting, there are stars in the sky, people and monsters and creatures to see, and hope returned to the world.

Even so, he knows he will spend the rest of his life protecting her.


End file.
